


on my way to believing

by junietuesday25



Series: BMQ Entries [4]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Camping, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, It's mild but it's there - Freeform, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junietuesday25/pseuds/junietuesday25
Summary: Michael and Jeremy are starting down the winding path through the forest, which leads to the campgrounds. Michael’s practically bouncing along, looking over at Jeremy with a wide smile.“This is gonna be so fun,” Michael says brightly, nudging Jeremy with his shoulder, and Jeremy stumbles with a snort. “Like, we can have as many snacks and s’mores as we want and go climbing those huge rocks our parents never let us touch and it’s gonna beso great.”Jeremy grins, laughing a little, and Michael suddenly notices that his eyes are kinda pretty.Michael turns and stares back down at the dirt path, smile falling off his face as he frowns, confused.During the summer before their freshman year, Michael and Jeremy go camping.
Relationships: Michael Mell/Jeremy Heere
Series: BMQ Entries [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675906
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	on my way to believing

**Author's Note:**

> title from "the only exception" by paramore

During the summer before their freshman year, Michael and Jeremy go camping. 

The two of them have been extremely hyped over the weeks leading up to it, because although this is a yearly tradition, this year, Michael’s and Jeremy’s parents decided that since they’re going into high school, they’re old enough to go with only Michael’s older sister as a chaperone. Said older sister has plans with friends nearby, so she agreed to leave them to their own devices as long as they stick to the campgrounds and didn’t blow anything up. Which means Michael and Jeremy had a whole week to themselves.

“Don’t murder anyone, I’ll be back in two days but I’m only a half hour’s drive away,” says Michael’s sister, as Michael and Jeremy climb out of her beat-up 2007 Toyota Corolla. “Do you need help with your bags?”

“Nope,” says Michael, popping the “p” as he circles around to the car’s trunk. “Wait, before you go, take a picture of us here, in case Mom makes sure you’re with us.”

Soon, Michael and Jeremy are starting down the winding path through the forest, which leads to the campgrounds. Michael’s practically bouncing along, looking over at Jeremy with a wide smile.

“This is gonna be _so fun,_ ” Michael says brightly, nudging Jeremy with his shoulder, and Jeremy stumbles with a snort. “Like, we can have as many snacks and s’mores as we want and go climbing those huge rocks our parents never let us touch and it’s gonna be _so great._ ”

Jeremy grins, laughing a little, and Michael suddenly notices that his eyes are kinda pretty.

Michael turns and stares back down at the dirt path, smile falling off his face as he frowns, confused.

* * *

By the time Michael and Jeremy emerge from the forest path into the open campground, Michael has mostly managed to shove that strange blip from his mind as they enter their cabin, the exact same one their parents rent every year. There are two rooms, and usually each family takes one of them, but this time, since Michael and Jeremy are alone, they can share, instead of staying up late in the main area and passing out on the pull-out couch.

Jeremy dumps his backpack and the plastic bag of s’more ingredients on the floor next to the bed closest to the window, flopping onto the mattress and spreading his arms.

“I’m kinda tired from the drive,” he says, as Michael puts his own bag down more gently and moves to sit on the edge of Jeremy’s bed, “but what d’you wanna do tonight?”

Michael’s answer is immediate. “Campfire food!” he exclaims, dropping down next to Jeremy. “I want marshmallows!”

For a few minutes, they’re quiet, just relaxing next to each other. The bed isn’t exactly the most luxurious, but being here next to Jeremy just makes Michael feel…warm. And comfortable.

But soon Michael’s perpetual restlessness wins out, and he sits up and gets out of the bed, tugging Jeremy to his feet. “I know you’re tired but we were literally sitting there for hours so you’ll be fine, I don’t wanna just sit here, let’s go play Uno or something outside.”

“Fine, fine!” Jeremy says, stumbling along as Michael pulls him out the bedroom’s door. “You need to _get the cards_ , y’know.”

“Oh.” Michael stops, and laughs, turning back around to grab the pack from his bag. But as he kneels down to dig through his backpack, his hand sort of feels tingly, and oh, it hits him. 

He was holding Jeremy’s hand. Holding Jeremy’s hand makes him feel kinda buzzy.

Michael swallows, shoving that down to deal with later. He finds the pack of Uno cards, along with a standard pack of cards for good measure, and holds the two up, trying for a triumphant grin.

* * *

“Fuck you, fuck you fuck you!” Jeremy screeches, as Michael puts down a +4 card with a wide smirk.

“Uno!” Michael says as soon as the card drops into the pile, giggling at Jeremy’s groan of misery as he face-plants into the picnic table. “Suck on that!”

They’re in the common area of the camp, playing their game of Uno at a table right next to the lake they’ve managed to snag. It’s not terribly crowded, especially since it’s only the second week of summer and there aren’t a huge amount of cabins available here, so the only people around right now are this family eating ice cream at a table across the field, a person walking around staring at their phone who’s almost definitely playing Pokémon Go, and a man in a gray hoodie leaning against the railing of a deck into the water, which has one of those binocular things you need to stick a quarter in to use.

“You‘re an ass, I hate you,” Jeremy grumbles into the table, and Michael reaches over and ruffles his hair, earning a yelp. “ _Michael._ Don’t touch my hair.”

“Oh, right, you only fantasize about having people whose names rhyme with Bristine Tanigula run their fingers through it,” says Michael, laughing, and Jeremy looks up and glares over his arms.

“What is this, ‘Attack Jeremy Relentlessly Hour’ or something?” Jeremy says. “She’ll never like me anyway.”

Michael frowns. “Don’t say that,” he says, more seriously. “You’re awesome. You just need to, uh, well. Actually talk to her.”

“Like that’ll ever happen,” Jeremy says, dropping his head to the table once again, and though it’s stupid, especially because he brought it up in the first place, Michael’s a little disconcerted at this turn of conversation. There’s only so many different things about his crushes Jeremy can agonize over, and it’s a little exhausting to hear them over and over again, especially in the middle of what was supposed to be _their week._ But Michael will bear it; he’s not Jeremy’s best friend for nothing, he supposes.

“Besides,” Jeremy continues, voice muffled into his arms, “there’s nothing ‘awesome’ about me. You just say so ‘cause you’re my best friend and you have to.”

“That’s not true,” Michael says. “You appreciate video games. Your laugh and eyes and hair and face are cute—um, I mean a bunch of girls probably think so. You’re funny. You’re smart.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy says, looking up, and Michael can see a genuine smile on his face from the compliments.

Butterflies go through Michael’s stomach.

* * *

About a trillion more games of Uno later, plus another few million rounds of other card games, the sun has set enough for it to be an appropriate time to make a campfire. It’s evening during early summer, so Michael and Jeremy have to change into long-sleeved shirts, but the weather is still the perfect kind of light and breezy as they pick their way through the woods, searching for sticks for firewood, the perfect roasting sticks, and, just for fun, some big sticks that are good for swords/staffs. The path is thin, unlike the road leading to the campground, and there are fallen trees and their jagged stumps all over that are hard to see in the dim light of the rising moon, but the walk is still relaxing.

The darkness cloaking the late hour and the comfortable chatter of nature and the giddiness from this being their first day allows Michael to say things closer to his heart.

“I’m really happy,” he says during a lull in the conversation, smiling softly to himself as he reaches down to grab more sticks and tuck them under his arm. “This is fun and you’re my favorite.”

“Aw, that’s kinda gay,” Jeremy jokes, but he continues sincerely, “You’re my favorite too.”

For some reason, the words make something in Michael’s chest feel weird. 

Michael’s known he’s gay for about a year and a half, now, and that’s only counting when he was finally able to admit it to himself, but he and Jeremy have known about being gay for far longer, thanks to middle school. It’s an all too common occurrence for Michael’s mood to sink slightly when Jeremy calls things gay as a synonym for either “too affectionate” or “stupid”—but he knows what that feels like, and this isn’t that.

“ _You’re_ kinda gay,” Michael says, instead of any of that. Jeremy shoves him into the nearest tree, going red.

“Shut up, I bet _you’re_ gay,” Jeremy retaliates, and for a moment, Michael contemplates telling him.

But it goes nowhere, as always. Anyway, this would be an awful time, because they’re stuck together in the middle of a camp two hours away from home, with nowhere for Jeremy to go if he decides that Michael is too gross to hang out with. And, a little selfishly, Michael just wants to enjoy this week alone with his best friend without souring the mood with a huge revelation like this, without potentially ruining everything at the cost of being true to himself.

“Yeah, okay,” Michael scoffs, swallowing the urge to come out and the fear welling up at just the thought of doing so. He continues walking, and Jeremy follows, walking backward and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Remind me which of us has the huge crush on Keanu Reeves?”

“You’re a _jerk_ , it’s a _respectful admiration,_ ” Jeremy insists, and then swears when he trips over a tree’s stray root. Righting himself, he continues, tone miffed but, as far as Michael can tell, with honesty, “If you were gay I wouldn’t make fun of you like this.”

Michael laughs, heart softening with affection and exploding at the same time with a rush of hope. And then he pushes the warmth away, but at least this time, it’s a bit more gently than before.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Michael and Jeremy are back in front of their cabin, stacking sticks by the firepit and setting up the tinder. 

Or, well, Jeremy’s doing that. Michael’s sitting in front of a slab of wood, twisting a stick back and forth in his palms with determination. 

“Michael, you know that’s not gonna work,” Jeremy says, the disbeliever and coward. “I’m just gonna get the matches.”

“You’re just a disbeliever and a coward,” Michael says without looking up, rolling the stick even more firmly. “Go get your disbeliever coward matches, see if I care.”

Jeremy snorts, and Michael hears him retreat into the cabin. Michael’s hands still, as he stares down at the piece of wood his stick’s end is poked into.

Does he like Jeremy?

Well, if today was any indication, yes, probably. But how can he just suddenly have a crush on Jeremy after ten years of purely platonic friendship? This can’t have appeared today. But how did Michael not notice?

Is this even a crush? He’s never had a proper one before, he hasn’t known anyone well enough to—even though the books and movies have people falling in love at first sight, that can’t be real. How would you get a crush on someone you’ve barely even met? But Jeremy’s definitely someone Michael‘s met. For all Michael knows, this could be romance.

What if it _is_ romance? Jeremy would never like him back, would never even consider dating him—mostly because Jeremy’s straight as an ruler, almost painfully so, but also because he’d probably be too freaked out by the fact his best friend who he’s been hugging and sleeping next to has been gay all along, and even has a crush on him. Even putting aside that line of thought that makes Michael want to hide, Michael doesn’t think he’s ready to date _anyone_ yet, despite the fact that he’s already fourteen and his classmates have already long begun to go out with each other. So there’s no point to this stupid crush and it should hopefully go away soon and he can just enjoy it while it lasts, because Jeremy can’t be upset if Michael keeps it cool and never tells him.

Yeah. This should go away soon.

“Okay, here we go,” says Jeremy from behind him, startling Michael out of his thoughts, and Michael turns to see Jeremy kneeling in front of the firepit, striking a match against the side of the matchbox. He gets the match’s tip lit, but then his expression flashes to realization. “Michael, can you go get the—the rainbow fire stuff? It’s in the left pocket of my bag. And the s’more ingredients!”

Michael takes a deep breath, then mock-salutes. “Got it,” he says, pulling himself to his feet. He crosses the grass and pushes open the cabin door, closing it behind him and pressing his forehead to the wood, trying to breathe.

_Four in, seven hold, eight out._

He does that four times, then he finally goes and grabs the packet of chemicals from Jeremy’s backpack pocket—it was actually in the right pocket, but Michael knew to check there first anyway—along with the bag with the packs of marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. He’s regained most of the skip in his step when he returns to Jeremy, who’s built up the campfire to a surprisingly great size.

Jeremy’s face, flickering in the light of the campfire’s flames and the glowing moon above, lights up when he sees Michael.

“Yes!” Jeremy says, jumping up, and he runs over to grab the folding chairs leaning up against the side of their cabin and set them up next to each other by the fire as Michael pulls over a little metal table to put the snacks on. The fire warms his body as he tears open the packs of food, Jeremy passing him his roasting stick, already sharpened and peeled and ready to go.

“You know the drill,” Michael says as he spears a marshmallow onto his stick, “give me your burnt ones immediately or I’ll steal them myself.”

“You’re such a weirdo, why do you _like_ the burnt ones?” Jeremy says as always, but doesn’t protest. “They’re horrible and fried and gross.”

“Says you,” Michael says, sticking his marshmallow straight into the fire, pulling it back out to let it burn for a few seconds, then extinguishing it at the perfect time. Burning marshmallows is a subtle art that Jeremy will never understand. “You just want to be all fancy and stuck up about your marshmallows.”

“No, I’m a reasonable human being that doesn’t like things that are burnt to a crisp,” says Jeremy, gently rotating his own marshmallow at a safe distance from the flames. “You just have no functioning tastebuds.”

Michael glances over, and his heart does a little flip in his chest at the sight of Jeremy’s intense stare to get his marshmallow “perfectly” browned. Jeremy looks up, maybe feeling Michael’s gaze, and sticks his tongue out at him, making Michael laugh.

…Maybe he likes Jeremy. And maybe that’s okay.

**Author's Note:**

>   * it's not stated outright bc i don't think michael would know the term yet, but he's written as demiromantic. the song for the title was even submitted as a demiro song for aro tunes thursday
>   * i think this feels sorta unfinished, esp bc i rushed to finish at 2:30 am last night and didn't even get to post it on ao3 til now, but i might do something with this later idk. but for now consider this fic done
>   * also i realized that i wrote michael very adhd in this by accident but i guess that's just how i write him now lmao
> 



End file.
